


more haste, less speed

by dissembler



Category: England Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Developing Relationship, Espionage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissembler/pseuds/dissembler
Summary: Espionage is slow, rooting out traitors even slower, and Archie wants so much so fast.
Relationships: Archie Curtis/Daniel da Silva
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	more haste, less speed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveronthetree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/gifts).



> HAPPY YULE! Hope you enjoy!

“And then there’s that Cannon man,” Archie said, the rumble of his voice sending pleasant vibrations through Daniel where he lay across him, still trying to doze. Archie lifted a shoulder to nudge Daniel. “D’you know, I really do think that it’ll be him after all.”

In the weeks since Archie had turned up at his rooms and ridden happily over all of Daniel’s infinitely sensible objections, they had found themselves on a great many mornings waking up together in Archie’s wonderfully soft, luxuriously large bed. Daniel was accustomed to drifting to sleep – aching blissfully after the inevitable exertions of the evenings – whilst hoping that this next morning would be one on which Archie allowed them to lie-in, quietly. But he had also become used to repeatedly having that hope dashed, coming to consciousness with Archie murmuring away about the list of suspects for the traitor in Vaizey’s office – upon which was everyone save Daniel and Vaizey himself – full of easy and, as far as Daniel was concerned, misplaced certainty. 

And now the day of their trap had come and, with the suspect list so long and the men on it spies by profession, Daniel still had very little of Archie’s faith that it had remotely good odds in catching the rabbit.

The trap itself was simple: Archie was to come to the Bureau offices and ask to speak to Vaizey. Once there, they were to raise their voices and Archie was to storm out, but not before imparting on all and sundry agents present the information that they really ought to check out a certain house of ill repute in Soho, as he was quite sure that not only were cards played there but that there was the encouragement of female company and that men who worked for various allies and enemies were present. A place ripe for blackmail, he would say. After that, Daniel, Archie and Vaizey had to hope that their man was desperate enough to capitalise on the first possible tip to come his way. It was unlikely, and Daniel had been able to see all number of issues with the plan from the start but had, somehow, allowed himself to be borne along regardless.

Now, reluctantly, Daniel opened his eyes and brushed his fingertips soothingly over Archie’s ribs. Putting on his most conciliatory tone, he said, “You can't condemn as a traitor any man that doesn’t like me, dearest. You’ll find a great many of my colleagues hold me in no particular esteem and they can’t _all_ be our man.”

“Ye-es,” Archie responded, not at all convincingly. Daniel supposed that that was touching, the blithe belief that anyone who didn’t like Daniel was automatically of a bad sort, despite both the fact that he himself had instantly disliked Daniel upon meeting him and that Daniel hardly attempted to engender the opposite in everyone he came into contact with – but mostly what it did was play into the well of Daniel’s doubt. 

Daniel lifted his head from the sleep-warm pillow of Archie’s chest to look at his face, hoping to see there at least some awareness of the flaws in the plan – being numerous and, to Daniel, so obvious – but instead he simply saw bright intent in those sweet, guileless blue eyes. Those eyes themselves were a particularly glaring flaw. How did Vaizey think for a moment that this man, this earnest, earnest man, could be a spy? Come to that, why on Earth had Daniel agreed to work with him, when their approaches were clearly so opposed? It could only end badly, he knew, and it gnawed at him; when Archie realised how dull the game was, how often the pace was glacial, how little they had in common and how much lay between them, surely he would leave, abandoning Daniel and espionage as a failed experiment. 

Archie brought a hand up to stroke through Daniel’s tumbled hair. “But this fellow–” 

Daniel dropped his head back down, mostly to conceal the irritated roll of his eyes. “Put it poorly,” he interrupted, a little harshly, then he honeyed his voice to continue, “I agree. But I must say that were I not the collateral damage in question, I might sympathise. It _is_ a trifle annoying when one looks up to find one’s case trampled upon and one’s potentially excellent lead into broader mischief dead.” And of course Archie’s previous encounter with Cannon was yet another spanner to the works… “It is a shame he had to voice his opinions to you, though.”

“How’d you mean?” He could sense rather than see Archie’s frown, and the fingers stopped their sifting through his hair, so he dropped an apologetic kiss onto Archie’s chest before he explained.

“I only mean your reaction, my dear. If Mr Cannon is the traitor in our midst–” At this Archie moved to protest but Daniel shushed him with a finger across his lips, “ _If_ he is, then our hand has rather been played as regards you. He’s unlikely to see so much as a word from your lips as a good opportunity, no matter how enticing.” He propped himself up and again hoped to see understanding.

Instead Archie kissed his finger and smiled down at him with a look of fondness so warm that it set some cracks into Daniel’s – now fledgling, having been wholly demolished only weeks ago – wall of objectivity, and said, simply, “Pessimist.”

Daniel sighed, battle lost. “I prefer realist.” He made one final bid for comprehension: “Look, all I ask is that you at least prepare for disappointment come Saturday morning, hmm?”

“Mm,” Archie agreed, but since he punctuated in with another sunny smile and leant in to capture Daniel’s mouth in a sweet kiss before sliding out from underneath him to begin the day, Daniel remained unconvinced. He ran a hand through his own hair and slumped onto his back, hoping a little that the sheets might devour him before all this came to the head he was dreading.

  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The office, unfortunately, wasn’t very full that day. There was the Scotsman Kinnear, who as a man of extreme independent wealth seemed unlikely to resort to underhand business for a little extra pay. And there were the two settled partnerships of Hitchens and Purser, both old hands at the Bureau with every appearance of watertight loyalty, and Masson and Entwistle, the former of whom, despite the French father, was extremely English, and the latter of whom raced dogs but as far as Daniel knew didn’t seem to have any trouble. Then of course there was Cannon, who sat at his desk by the window scowling over what remained of the Armstrongs’ documents, but otherwise did not seem to have changed in any way since the collapse of that racket. 

Daniel’s own desk was strewn with documents in various languages on the subject of the French interest in Morocco, assuming that this was to be his next mission. He tried his best to read them as he waited for Archie without looking like he was waiting and wondered idly if he ought to act a little starstruck when Archie did arrive, playing the obvious little queer fawning over the fine specimen of Boy’s Own virtue who’d saved his life once from a damp death of madness and starvation, and then again from going down riddled with shotgun blast. But that hadn’t been discussed and he couldn’t be sure how Archie would react. Easier, then, to stick with his well established cool disdain for men who settled their disputes with guns and to speak only when spoken to.

Archie eventually arrived mid-afternoon, looking flushed and harried and as attractive as ever, managing as always to threaten Daniel with distraction, especially here where he could so easily imagine himself being bent over a desk, holding on for dear life as Archie pounded away... He shook his head to clear the thought, grateful as ever for the buffer between his mind and his face. Archie had not yet made good on all that Viking strength and pounded him into the nearest available mattress; the wholly selfish half of him thought that it would be such a shame for this to end without that taking place, but the rest of him feared that it’d ruin him for life.

He turned his veiled attention back to Archie, who had gone immediately to Kinnear as the nearest and asked if he might get a moment with his uncle. He only glanced over at Daniel when told to wait, with some pride Daniel noticed that Archie didn’t smile at him but merely nodded in polite acknowledgment. It was a start but his eyes were still far too warm; he would have to learn to hide that, if he did mean to go through with this career change. 

Daniel gave him a camp little wave and looked back down at his notes on the _entente_ , ears open for anything Archie’s presence might’ve prompted. He found that he hoped. Despite his reservations, he did hope.

Alas, from his left, where Hitchens and Purser were plotting a course to Egypt, came only a murmur of ‘Wonder what the nephew’s here for’ and ‘I’d thought that country house business was all tied up’. They both sounded completely genuine, no tension or strain in the voices whatever and when Daniel glanced up, ostensibly at the wall clock, neither of them were paying Archie any real attention. Over by the bookshelves Masson was watching Archie, but Daniel couldn’t see anything there but curiosity. Entwistle hadn’t looked up at all.

That left Cannon, and he, though he scowled a tad deeper, made no attempt to accost Archie and only jabbed his pen a little more fiercely when he returned to his notes. He didn’t look scared, in fact he didn’t look at all out of the ordinary. He hadn’t missed any appointments since Peakholme, nor did he appear to be pinching his pennies. In short, nothing save a clear dislike of Daniel suggested him above any of the others as their traitor. 

Though he had expected all this, nonetheless Daniel felt the now familiar stab of worry. How long, he thought, would this go on? How long until Archie tired of this?

Resisting the urge to dig his hands into his hair, pomaded and brilliantined as it was, Daniel instead kept listening on the faded hope that something of use would at some point be said. He heard Kinnear come back and Archie go into Vaizey’s office, the door shutting with a click, and then for a while there was nothing at all to listen to save the scratching of pens, the rustle of papers and the low voices of Hichens and Purser as they debated the merits of such and such port over another. 

At the raised voices through the door Daniel looked up, as anyone with a healthy sense of curiosity would, and found all the other men glancing at one another, brows raised. Hitchens caught his eye.

“Any notion what that’s all about, da Silva? You met the chap at the country house, didn’t you, on the blackmail business?”

Daniel gave an affected, elegant shrug and saw Purser roll his eyes. “I did meet the chap but I fear I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps he’s run up a debt; I seem to remember he wasn’t overly good at billiards.”

Cannon stood suddenly and all eyes turned to him, Daniel’s heart thudded. “The man’s a bloody brute,” he said and glanced at Daniel as if expecting a rebuttal. When none came he added, “Didn’t you think so, da Silva?”

He was saved from answering that by a sniggering Purser. “Cannon, you know da Silva likes the brutes.”

Daniel favoured Purser with a sharp smile. “Mortifyingly true,” he drawled, “only the brutes don’t ever seem to like me. More’s the pity.”

They were all then interrupted by Archie being shown rather briskly out of Vaizey’s office, pink-faced and still trying to argue.

“Sir Maurice,” he tried, and to his credit he did sound most convincing. “I really do think you ought to investigate this. There are diplomats there, for pity’s sake! Betting our state secrets to foreigners.”

“Archie,” Vaizey said impatiently. “I’m sure Peakholme was greatly exciting for you but you must stop seeing treason around all corners. Diplomats play cards, that’s just how it is, and that they do it in less than salubrious places is merely a fact of life. Unless you have any evidence of blackmail or of any crime being committed I ask you to go home and calm yourself.” He returned to the door of his office and gestured to Kinnear. “See that my nephew goes home without a fuss.”

The door closed with finality and Archie was left looking rather embarrassed. Daniel wasn’t sure how much of that was an act and how much genuine horror at being spoken down to like that by a greatly revered uncle. Visibly, he pulled himself together and cast about the room.

“You there!” he cried once his eyes found Daniel. “Da Silva, wasn’t it? Can’t you make the old man see sense?”

Daniel, wondering now how much calling his uncle ‘the old man’ had cost him to say, switched on his best condescending smile. “I’m really not sure what help I could be, Captain–”

Archie shook his head. “No, look. It’s a club in Soho and I happen to know that not only are these men playing cards but there’s also… Well, I hear _company_ is sold. Suffice it to say that they are laying themselves open to extortion. Of national secrets! Surely that’s an issue this place ought to be paying attention to!”

Though he was playing a little much into the loud, brusque military type, Daniel nonetheless had to revise his opinion a little on Archie’s skills as an actor; there was room for improvement, but he wasn’t disastrous. 

“And you’re sure that the men are diplomats?”

Archie frowned at him. “Very sure,” he confirmed.

Daniel then made a show of interest, baiting the hook as best he could, and took up a pen. “All right, give me the address, please, and any pertinent details.”

Archie rattled off the name of a harmless bar and told him that the particular game he was worried about took place on Fridays. “All the Russians go there then, I heard,” he added, “and the Germans too. Stay until the small hours of the morning.”

Daniel nodded and then gave Archie a winning but obviously patronising smile. “Thank you for your service, Captain. I’ll be sure to get this checked out.”

Sticking out his left hand for Daniel to take, Archie thanked him sincerely and then turned to let Kinnear usher him away.

“Do you think there’s anything in that?” Masson asked from across the room and Daniel gave another lissome shrug. 

“Anywhere’s ripe for blackmail these days,” he said. “Though I might try Vaizey again in a day or two.” He put the note carefully in his intray and sat back down as the others returned to what they’d been doing.

Throughout the whole charade Daniel had been watching Cannon, who had looked up for Daniel’s interaction with Archie, but now he was again paying none of them any attention. He left before Daniel did, and made no attempt to swipe the note or take a look at it, and though that of course did not preclude his having memorised the address or his coming back later to look at it, Daniel could not help the ice that settled in the pit of his stomach.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Daniel had also become used, by now, to sneaking into Archie’s building and letting himself into the flat. As the building was serviced, he cautiously called out Archie’s name and followed the confirmation that they were alone into the bedroom.

Archie rose from his desk to greet him and leant in for a quick, easy kiss that Daniel longed to simply melt into but found that he couldn’t, tense as he was.

Oblivious, Archie pulled back and asked, “So, did Cannon take the bait?”

The ice in the pit of Daniel’s stomach sent up a frost to chill the rest of him. He shook his head. “No, Archie, I’m sorry. It didn’t look like any of them did.”

He braced himself for annoyance, for a suggestion that they go in all guns blazing and simply interrogate every man at the bureau, for _something_ but to his utter surprise Archie didn’t seem bothered at all. “Oh well,” he said on a shrug, heading over to a drinks cabinet to fix what had become their habitual first evening tipple. “We’ll wait for Saturday and if nothing comes of Soho we’ll try another tack.” He waved an easy hand, an almost da Silvian gesture. “So on until we’ve caught the bastard.”

Daniel’s pulse skipped. “That may take a long time,” he tried.

Turning back to him, Archie held up the dainty glass and looked into his face. Daniel felt that he was being studied and didn’t wholly like this reversal in positions. Then: “Oh,” Archie said, realisation dawning on his face. “Is that why you were so short with me this morning?”

“I wasn’t _short_ ,” Daniel protested.

Chuckling softly, Archie set his glass down and put his arms around Daniel’s waist, bringing him close and smiling at him with pure, genuine affection that made Daniel want to hide. “You were,” he said. “Normally it’s because I wake you earlier than you’d like but it did seem today like it was something more and I couldn’t quite work out what it was. Daniel, I hadn’t expected this to be quick. Of course I would prefer that the man be caught as soon as possible, for your safety, but I do know that this is just how the game works.”

Daniel, face not red by sheer strength of will, stared at him, trying to find a trace of noble suffering or a hint that he was hiding real disappointment but there was none. “Still,” he said anyway, “it’s hardly as exciting as–”

“Peakholme was more than enough action for me, Daniel.” He squeezed Daniel’s sides and laughed. “You can’t seriously have thought that I’d be bothered by this.”

Daniel closed his eyes and felt a fool, lightheaded with relief, stupidly grateful to be held in the solid circle of Archie’s arms.

“You had!” Archie sounded incredulous but not insulted, and he kissed Daniel’s temple, his lips lingering until Daniel cracked an eye open. “Daniel, I was a soldier. A great deal of my erstwhile profession involved waiting around for things that might or might not happen. I’m not here for excitement.”

Grateful for that opportunity, Daniel quirked a single speaking eyebrow. 

“Oh, hell. I didn’t…” Archie spluttered, turning delightfully red. “You’re jolly exciting and I like you very much but—” He noticed Daniel biting his lip and rolled his eyes, fond exasperation radiating from him. “What I meant was that I fully understand the virtues of ‘slow’.”

“You do?” Daniel said, a little stifled.

“Yes,” Archie said, and let him go, taking a step back and away. Daniel swayed towards him, following the heat of him but he held up a hand. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

He lifted one of Daniel’s wrists and began to work the cuff links free. He moved with utter focus while Daniel’s skin burnt with every brief brush of calloused fingertips. All his care and attention, married with those horrifically fleeting touches, was perfectly wrought to drive Daniel quietly mad, reducing him to desperate impatience, and they both knew it. Accordingly, out of sheer bloody-mindedness, Daniel resolved to stay as unaffected as he could for as long as possible. He allowed his other wrist to be taken, resisting the shudder that threatened to wrack him when Archie purposefully swiped his thumb back and forth across the thin skin that covered the delta of his veins.

Next, Archie came around behind him to slide the jacket off his shoulders and pressed such a gentle kiss against his throat that it played havoc with both Daniel’s self-control and his breathing, but he stayed strong. The jacket then discarded, Archie returned to face him and set his hands to Daniel’s cravat.

Archie’s face was slightly pink, but beyond that there wasn’t much sign that he was affected. Daniel hoped that this was another example of his improvement as an actor. He narrowed his eyes, which Archie didn’t notice, focused as he was on the knot, and stuck out his hand to grope at Archie’s crotch, which he did. Daniel just managed to feel out the gratifyingly hard bulge of his cock before one of Archie’s hands came down to wrap around his wrist and move him off. 

Archie flashed him a quick smile. “Hands where I can see them.”

Daniel considered refusing, thought of surging forward and grabbing Archie and kissing the life out of him, of channeling his relief, his helpless need for _them_ , for what they had, into every touch, but decided against it. He was wound up, coiled so tightly that it was exquisitely torturous; he wanted to see how long his own control could last and just how long Archie himself could drag this out. He raised his hands and Archie nodded, moving to unfasten his waistcoat, then, excruciatingly slowly, began tackling the buttons of his shirt. 

Archie didn’t seem to seek out the piercing as he usually did, but he wasn’t avoiding it; his forearm brushed over it as he worked a button free and Daniel had to bite his lip against the shiver of sensation, a noise escaped anyway. 

The eyes that met his now were dark, a little wild, and Archie's fingers fumbled as he tugged shirt from waistband. Archie stepped away and gestured for Daniel to shrug it off. 

Daniel, half naked, achingly hard and so desperate for touch it was almost painful, watched him pick up the discarded clothes and move to start folding them and said on a breathless rush, “Don’t you bloody dare, Archie Curtis.”

Archie made a choked noise but rallied admirably; abandoning the clothes in a heap on the chair he moved back to manoeuvre Daniel to the bed, the familiar frenzied urgency of their coupling absent. After the lightest of shoves, Daniel lay on the bed with Archie, still fully dressed, gazing down at him.

In the months after Peakholme, things between them had never progressed as slowly, nor as quietly, as this. Though Archie did always tend to treat Daniel with the utmost care – his strength always under control no matter how much Daniel wanted to feel it – he had never managed quite this level of reservation with him before. But Daniel could tell that he was close, could see how thin the barrier between this slow, measured Archie and the Archie who wanted desperately to have him now, without this slowness, had worn over what felt like the hours of this undressing. Daniel was sure he looked the same, the only differences were the level of clothing and the fact that at least Daniel had been _touched_.

Daniel kicked off his shoes and shuffled up the bed, then he brought up a hand to fondle at his piercing. He didn’t bother to hold back the noise he made at the jolt of pain/pleasure that went straight to his throbbing prick, in fact he played it up, biting his lip and moaning like a harlot. 

It had the desired effect: Archie’s mouth fell open and he knelt beside him, hands making quick work of Daniel’s trouser buttons and when Archie finally got his hand around Daniel’s prick he almost wept with relief. 

Archie shoved Daniel’s drawers down over his straining erection and tapped him on the hip to make him lift them, then he pulled both offending items of clothing down over the swell of Daniel’s arse and leant down to lick a stripe up the length of Daniel’s cock.

Daniel swore and tried to get his hands on Archie, to pull him up for a kiss, but instead Archie took hold of them and with his left hand held both of Daniel’s wrists to his stomach. 

For the first time since this evening of glacial torment began, it occurred to Daniel that he was being punished. Trying to wrest his hands free and finding Archie’s broad hand immovable, he was almost proud of Archie. This was unexpectedly dastardly.

With Daniel restrained, Archie held Daniel’s prick with the intact forefinger and thumb of his right hand and mouthed at the leaking slit, his tongue swirling inexorably about the head until he had Daniel twisting underneath him, desperate to thrust up into Archie’s warm, wet mouth but prevented.

“Archie, you...” Daniel broke off with a groan as Archie pulled off and nuzzled at the base. “Archie, you _terrorist_.”

Archie worried the base with blunt teeth and Daniel made an inhuman noise. “Slow,” he murmured, and Daniel threw his head back, dug his own nails into his skin and hissed imprecations in several languages other than English.

Returning to the head of his prick, Archie dropped a kiss there and finally took him into the white heat of his mouth. Daniel’s back bowed – his legs kicking out quite beyond his control and ending up tangled in the trousers that were halfway down his thighs – delirious with sensation but Archie still didn’t suck, just held Daniel in his mouth. He was trapped, unable to do anything but submit to the torture of Archie’s slow, maddening pace. 

He found his voice and lifted his head. “ _Fuck_ , Archie. If you don’t let me…”

Pulling off with an obscene noise Archie smiled at him, flushed and heavy-eyed, his lips red and wet and Daniel cursed himself for the horrible influence he had clearly exerted to corrupt the straightforward soldier and turn him into a fiend and a blaggard and–

“Archie,” he gasped. “I give in. You’ve made your point.” Daniel’s whole body was shaking with the exertion of being held at the edge and refused passage over it. “I should never have doubted you, now for the love of all that is holy would you let me–”

Archie took him down, lips tight around Daniel’s aching prick, and sucked and Daniel’s vision shook in time with the rapid beats of his heart as he came with a terrible cry.

Stunned, he heard Archie swallow and then felt him slide off the bed to fetch the brandy. He returned to the side of the bed to survey the wreck he’d made of Daniel, looking far too pleased with himself. 

Daniel, wrung out and still dazed, wasn’t overly sure how much he could move and so settled for turning his head to meet Archie’s gaze. “Well,” he said, a little hoarse from cursing the house down, “that was quite something.”

Archie grinned and bent down to kiss him, tasting mostly of sweet alcohol rather than the tang of Daniel’s spendings. He slid a hand beneath Daniel’s neck to find the perfect angle, deepening his exploration of Daniel’s mouth and making his spent prick stir.

At length, he let up and said, softly, “You must stop finding reasons for me to give up on this. There aren’t any.” 

Daniel’s heart lurched. He didn’t do it on purpose, but he knew that it wasn’t remotely fair to Archie. He nodded. “So I’m coming to realise,” he said, and turned his head to nuzzle into Archie’s palm, hoping Archie understood what he meant which was I’ll try, and perhaps something deeper. Then he curled his lips in a diabolical smile and added, “Though if that’s to be my comeuppance for misjudging you I might do it once or twice more. You are getting good at that.”

Archie barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Still not a patch on you, I’m sure.”

Daniel just about managed to lift a hand to Archie’s crotch, where the rigid bar of his enormous prick was obvious. He squeezed once and Archie groaned, long and low. 

“I’m not sure I have the energy to torture you in return, dear heart,” Daniel said conversationally, fondling the fine piece, searingly hot through drawers and thick winter trousers. He gave Archie a filthy grin and added, “May as well find out.”

Archie whimpered and let himself be pulled down for Daniel to try it. In the end, though, he came off like a shot the moment Daniel wrapped a hand around his prick, his face buried in Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel laughed and Archie joined in, panting. 

“Perhaps next time.”

“I shall hold you to that.”


End file.
